


Assembly Required

by My_Dear_Watson



Category: L.A. Noire, XCOM (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cole is genderswapped and a child in this, I don't remember why, It's been three years since I wrote it, M/M, Modern AU, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 16:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14548842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Dear_Watson/pseuds/My_Dear_Watson
Summary: Prompt: ‘We somehow got stuck overnight in an IKEA and I just want to go to sleep in one of the display beds but you’re slowly convincing me that it’d be fun to see how much shit we can get into before the morning staff come to open up the store’ au





	Assembly Required

This was all Stefan’s fault.  It always was. 

How one of his “Oh it’s only a little while ‘till close, let’s just get the little stuff and get out” plans could go so wrong in a place so big  _someone could raise a goddamn army within it,_ Gordon would never know _._

The couple had planned on going to IKEA at 11am and being out by 3pm. Of course, that morning a pipe in the kitchen had sprung a leak that they had to repair, and then ‘Uncle Hersch’ had a family emergency so he had to bow out of watching little Colette. Which led to their neighbors, Nico and Will- or Carter, as he wanted to be called- volunteering. The two of them were something else, but Carter was serious enough that Gordon trusted him with their kid, and Nico adored Colette, giving even Uncle Ralph a run for his money, not to have them be suitable backup babysitters.  It had worked out and they had agreed to watch her for the day, but it put them behind schedule to the point where they had left at 5PM and by the time they had driven there, it was 6pm. 

So naturally, with three hours before close in _fucking IKEA_ , things were bound to go wrong. 

First, they got lost somewhere between the kitchen and studio apartment displays. How that happened, they didn’t know, considering  _the damn place literally had arrows on the floor to prevent that from happening_.  

It was another hour before they managed to get back in place and find the coffee table and wardrobes they were looking for. And then came the choosing and planning out everything because Stefan had forgotten the measurements. Again. An hour and one rude worker later, they had been set for pickup. So then came the basement- the Indiana Jones warehouse, more like it. For once, it was Stefan who knew his shit when they had made it down there. But in the process of getting the smaller things they needed, they had missed the closing announcement. 

So imagine their surprise when they noted it was 9:05 and hurried to the registers to find the place empty- and the doors locked. 

Gordon was mortified.  Stefan gave the doors a tug of his own for good measure and then  _laughed._

Another few minutes passed and Gordon had explained the absurdity of the situation to Nico, who, in turn, also laughed at the whole ordeal. Gordon was going to kill him. Carter, bless his heart, had cut in to tell them to call the cops to see who they could contact about ‘being set free’. The suggestion had Stefan and Nico just about  _rolling_ because _all four of them were cops, which just made the suggestion even more absurd given the situation_. Carter had merely muttered something about all of them being off duty and finding someone else. Stefan had taken the phone and walked a few paces to continue the conversation, and Gordon settled for collapsing onto the nearest  bedding: lövås, the futon that was comfortable for a grand total of three minutes, before Stefan came back and flopped down next to him. 

“You know… this could be fun…” the younger man supplied. 

“Can we focus on making sure the guys are gonna take care of Lettie for the day before we get into any of your crackpot plans?” Leary countered. The last time Stefan had said something was going to be “fun”, he had ended up with a broken leg. Usually it ended with a strained muscle in… choice areas. Not that having Stefan dote on him and knock himself down the energy ladder a few pegs wasn’t nice. 

“They’re fine with it. They have her set up on the couch-” 

“ _The couch_? She's five!"

“She'll manage. We’re in IKEA. You know how many people have imagined misadventures like this? And it was dropped into our lap.” 

“You’re not fucking me on any of it,” Gordon pointed out. “Now, back to Lettie. She’s on their couch?!”” 

“She was fine when I just called them. That asshole kid Roy saw her playing earlier today and gave her a hard time…” Stefan donned a shit eating grin when Gordon rolled his eyes. “Nico and Carter got it, don’t worry."

Gordon broke and chuckled. “That’s our job, but I’ll take it.” 

Stefan winked. “Now, about _the thing we almost talked about_ before you worried about Lettie.” 

“No,” Gordon insisted. 

Stefan rolled his eyes. “Fine. Well, I still haven’t called anybody because I mean, this whole situation is fantastic, so let’s go find… something to do. Bet we could just raid the grocery area-” 

“No stealing if we’re gonna do this.” 

“Ugh. Fine, let’s go play ‘which pieces of furniture are the boys at work.”

* * *

 

“No, I’m telling you that Kelso kid is that Lack coffee table. Bland as fuck and gets a screw loose at the slightest bit of movement.”

“Wouldn’t that be Biggs?” Gordon countered. 

“No, he’s that pokey piece of shit wicker chair from before,” Stefan replied. 

Gordon snorted, then pointed at another coffee table beside them- Stockholm, and arched an eyebrow. 

Stefan stared at it for a bit, then nudged it with his foot and it went sliding a couple of feet. He snorted. “Caldwell. Can’t handle shit.” 

“You are terrible.” 

“Only for you, dear.” 

“I don’t think that’s a compliment…” 

“Keep thinking about it. The suspense’ll kill ya.”

* * *

 

A couple of hours later found them leaning over another Lack, playing a game of chess with the prop that had been on display on it. 

Stefan was looking around, making a face. “Gotta say, kinda like the layout. Also since when the shit did they have actual electronics and not the plastic pieces of crap for props?” he nodded at the working TV for good measure. “And why leave it on when you’re out? And why are the lights on?!” 

“You’re thinking about this too much…” Gordon pointed out, taking out one of Stefan’s pawns. 

“Yeah, kinda surprised that you’re not.” 

“I’m laughing on the inside.” 

“That’s the problem with all you quiet people. Be more excited,  Sugar Bear.” 

“Sugar B…?- I hate you. So much.” 

“Right. Says that shiny gold thing on your finger.” 

“Bite me…” 

“I’d love to, but you apparently won’t let me.” 

“I said no to fucking… A.K.A getting the furniture involved. Didn’t say anything about anything else?”  

“Oh?” Stefan’s grin was damn near predatory. 

“Mm-hm.” 

Stefan stared at him, then shoved the Lack to the side, sending chess-pieces scattering.  “That board will be the only victim of the night,” he said defensively before all but lunging at the redhead. 

* * *

 

A few more card and chess games, Stefan shoving one of those heart-with-arms pillows into Gordon’s chest with a grin and an extremely cheesy “be mine” line with a giant snake plushie around his neck, and it was opening time. 

Granted, neither of them had known it because they had called it a night and gone to sleep leaning on each other in one corner a couple of hours before. Gordon was the first to hear the manager coming up to them, and elbowed Stefan when the man approached them with his mouth hanging open, not quite sure what to say. Well, at least that made two of them. 

Because apparently Stefan did: but it was next to no help. Because he merely gawked at the manager before promptly word vomiting. In Italian. Probably to make it looked like he was panicked about something and his friend had helped him out after some misunderstanding. His Italian was fairly rusty, but he was pretty sure he made out “apple bastard potato” in one sentence. The good news was that the manager looked just as confused. Gordon took it as his moment and hauled Stefan, still blurting random words out. “Uh, scusi, mi- mistake, we… buon giorno.” He just about shoved Stefan through the main doors and the pair bolted for their car. 

When they finally got inside, both cracked and burst out laughing. 

When he finally stopped, Stefan snorted, then sighed. “I’d do that again.” 

“I wouldn’t. Or not soon, anyway…” Gordon admitted, starting up the car. “I’m good for a weekend at home soon after that. Just relaxing.” 

“You do realize we need to go back there to get our stuff eventually.” 

“Eh, we’ll give it like, three days,” Gordon shrugged. 

“And if that guy’s back there?” 

“Then you better brush up on your Italian,  _Sugar Bear._ ” 

“I knew you loved that.” 

“Shut up.” 


End file.
